Broken
by Genicise1275
Summary: A new kid moves to South Park and proves to be in a spot of bother. Can Stan and his friends save him from a place where the happiness that has been sucked from him at his home. Rated T for violence and abuse.
1. Introduction

Broken

Chapter 1: Introduction

"Please, Dad, please, please let me out. I don't like it. I'm frightened. I'm scared. Please, Dad, please let me out!"

Subconsciously my heart raced as I leant towards the door, looking around the room where I spend most my time. I screamed out, pleading with every ounce of innocence in my voice to be let out the horrible place where I be put if I 'misbehave'. My frantic pleas were unheeded. No matter how much I wanted to be let out, every scream, cry and noise was left ignored. My innocent seven-year-old self, my crime is being forced to live with a vile and despicable man who portrayed himself as the person every human being looks up to, to give advice, guidance and a highly respectable police officer. That description of this vile man being wrongly portrayed as their hero makes me sick to my stomach as he thinks of himself as my father.

This wasn't the first time I have been put in the cupboard under the stairs. It is a place I fear every-time I go downstairs, it had the appearance of a dark, dingy hole. My father reminds both my brother John and I, that it is the entrance to hell. "That's the place where naughty little boys are put. At the very back lives the Devil. He drags naughty boys from there down into the depths of hell". You could imagine the fear that the place had induced in my mind. He would regularly use this as a pacifier, to strike fear into both of us to either not bother him or to generally behave ourselves. He gives us this dark, hard stare as his head turns to the crooked door that is the entrance to the cupboard under the stairs.

What an absolutely horrendous thing for a father to tell his sons. No normal parent would torment the minds of young, innocent children so peculiarly, but my father is no ordinary person, no he is an evil, manipulative bastard of a man.

On that day, I had been sitting in the living room, moping, trying to stay out of the way. Most children would be running around having fun with their parents, but for me and John we mostly stay away from our father. This is the common practice now; I would sit in the living room stay out of my fathers' way. He reminds me every time "little boys should be seen, not heard".

Every time he says that it clicks in my mind that I was never wanted or loved. I knew I was in the living room for one reason only… he calls it a game, but I know it wasn't, the fear itself is enough for him to manipulate me. I sat in front of him, ordered by my father to lay there after I stripped naked in front of him, I'd shake as I do this and lay down with his filthy body towering over me. I could smell his stench, his sickly stench of as a result of smoking 50-60 cigarettes a day, this stench of stale smoke that oozed from his skin and mouth. My father hated his sons and I recall a time when he uttered some hateful words, his cold, black-hearted eyes as he began his mission to control a child, his own son.

"Do you know how much you get on my tits? You are a real pain in the arse. You're a little boy who isn't wanted. You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't exist", he told me once. Although I was sheltered for most my life I can understand that I wasn't meant to be loved or wanted. I took that onboard and understood their meaning and from that I knew not to question his judgement. It was his way of saying be grateful for even existing though the way he puts, I shouldn't exist, how horrible for a father to tell him that. I became more and more subservient to him, feeling I should be grateful that he gave me life in the first place. Scared that I would be sent back to wherever I came from, a shop perhaps where they found me. Worse still he might just send me to the cupboard under the stairs, to the Devil that struck fear inside me. That cupboard – its contents and everything it stood for – still terrifies me now. I'm not ashamed of stating that I am scared of the dark.

The absence of a paternal figure has led me to believe that I can't be loved or cared for, that I was merely a toy that is used whenever my dad got upset or angry over something, I was there to serve his need to slap, punch and kick to release his feelings. It didn't have to be me that caused his problems, he just needed a punch-bag and I'd be his punch-bag. He sat back down on the sofa behind me as I looked back with dull, gloomy eyes in confusion as I shivered and covered my genitalia; he watched the television pretending to not notice me. All I ever wanted was to be cuddled, to feel loved by my dad, but that never happened, not once. I made a mistake on this occasion as I ask innocently why, if he didn't want me had he got me?

"Get you", he roared at me, "I didn't get you. I wouldn't want something as pathetic as you. We didn't get you, you were presented to us. You came from here", he pointed to his trousers.

Oh dear I done it now, I've agitated him. He rose up from the couch and started fumbling with the zipper on his trousers, he pulled out his penis. "You came out of here. Like wee, you were pissed out. Stand up in front of me!" I didn't want to stand anywhere near him, he dragged me towards him, "Kiss my cock. Kiss the end of my cock, you little bastard. See what it tastes like. This is where you came from. This is part of you".

Without prior warning, he grabbed my head with both his hands and pulled my face towards his penis. "Kiss it, I said!" he yelled. I wanted to break the hold he had on my head so I could run away, but he over-powers me. I knew if I refused he'd force me to, like he did my brother and my mother in bed. I closed my eyes and faced the music as my lips touched the end of his penis and immediately I removed them as the sickening smell of stale urine and cigarette smoke made it too sickening.

"Do it again. Only this time, put it in your mouth or I'll have to force it in there". Again without any warning, he yanked my head towards him, I didn't want to, but I had a gut feeling that if I did then my life will never be the same again. Unfortunately my thoughts were interrupted by him forcing my head downwards towards his junk and he had my neck in a vice like grip which I couldn't escape from as he forced me from fear to open my mouth as he inserted it. I have the image still in my head, that disgusting, shrivelled up member that looked unhygienic that I couldn't wait to be of age where I could get away from him, but alas I still had ten or eleven years yet, oh joy.

I felt sick to my stomach whenever I even think about my life as it is at the moment and having to live here in this house with an abusive father. Well that is until my dad got a phone call one morning when he woke up.

"Hello", I couldn't hear the other side of the conversation, but I can recall his side of it.

"Hello".

"Yes this is Frank".

"Oh really you're transferring me".

"I'm sorry, but I'd need to take my family with me in order for that to work out for me".

"*sigh* Ok I'll go".

The rest is history as my crappy life was packed up and transferred to a little town called "South Park". From there I will tell you my story.


	2. Beginning

Chapter 2: The beginning

I just realised that I didn't introduce myself nor where we are, my name is Michael. We situate ourselves in a small town called South Park; from my experience of the kids around here it's easy to see why they have problems at home. I haven't been enrolled into South Park Elementary yet, but from what I've heard it's a pretty decent school. Knowing my luck though I won't be going to school, I'd be forced to be my fathers' playboy.

So today is my first day at school thank goodness, I want to be as far away from my house as possible, we moved here of financial problems apparently, I'm not very good with family issues. I have no-one apart from John, my brother he is basically the person I look up to for advice and guidance. I get up out of bed very stiff from the beating I got for something trivial like: looking at my father the wrong way. I should go to social services, but I'm afraid that they'll stop my mother from seeing me and John, so I stay quiet. I trudge downstairs to the dark room that was my dining room with my mother in the kitchen cooking me and John breakfast while my father is in bed sleeping from working nights as a policeman. Yeah you read that right, a freaking policeman. Now that I think about it, I just realised that we didn't move because of financial problems, we actually moved because my dad was transferred to the South Park Police Department.

"Morning mum", I try to make small talk.

"Keep it to a whisper, your fathers' in bed", she whispered.

I gave up and sat in the dining room, selecting a chair that didn't squeak as you sit on it. I set the table and my mum placed the plates carefully on the table without a sound, I knew something happened last night while I passed out upstairs from the beating I received before he went to work that night. We ate silently as I got myself ready, most kids would be dreading school, but for me, I'm strangely looking forward to it. After getting ready I went to bus stop, there stood five other boys, strangely no girls, but I'm not complaining.

The five boys were of different sizes; the one on the left had a blue bobble hat and wore a brown jacket with jeans, next to him, a boy dressed with an orange jacket sporting a green hat. I noticed the far right boy, looking withdrawn and nervous at the same time he was wearing a turquoise jumper and always seemed to fiddle with his thumbs. Wow these are some strange kids, but maybe I'm judging them too early. I approached the bus stop and they stopped their conversation and looked over at me, "Oh goodness please don't beat me up", I pleaded in my mind, but to my surprise the orange jacket boy came over to me.

"You're new here, right?"

I nodded, "You're probably shy, I'm Kyle and this is Stan, Eric and Kenny".

"What about me, I don't get introduced?"

"Shut up Butters!"

I looked at them confused, "Oh don't mind Eric he just doesn't like Butters".

"Butters, that's his name".

"Yeah well welcome to South Park".

"Thanks, I guess".

"Something wrong, uh oh you didn't tell us who you are".

"Oh sorry, I'm Michael, no everything's fine".

"Well consider us friends ok, I'll tell you more on the bus".

The bus then pulled up and we boarded, I stood shaking at my knees, but Kyle quickly led me to where they sit, conveniently there is a spare spot for me to sit with them. As I sat down though the bruising on my back made it difficult to get comfortable.

"Are you sure you're ok?"

"Yeah I'm fine, stop asking me that please".

I knew that my life wouldn't change for the better no matter what I did. There's no point pretending that it's going to get better when it isn't. I had to keep my father a secret from my new friends otherwise the consequences would be severe; I don't want them to suffer like I am.

"Well Michael, we should tell you some stuff about us, I'm Jewish and my family celebrate Hanukah, I have a brother called Ike he's in Kindergarten, behind you is Kenny, well to put it bluntly he comes from a rough background, he's poor and his family live off well you know what I mean".

"That doesn't sound too bad".

Kenny overheard me, "MMM (Hey)!"

"Uh Michael, I must tell you now, Kenny has been emotionally and verbally abused".

"Ok well now that sounds pretty bad", I sighed.

"What about you? What's your back-story?"

"Look Kyle, I honestly don't want to talk about it".

"Are you sure? It can't be that b-"

"It is, I just don't like bringing it up".

"Ok fair enough, it's cool".

The bus pulled up to the school, I slowly rise out of the bus seat to prevent my back from troubling me. Kyle seemed to notice right away, "Are you alright, man?"

I nod as his head cocked at an angle looking like he didn't believe me, I ignored the look of disbelief on Kyles' face as I wandered off the bus; I stood before South Park Elementary with dishonour in my eyes. Even though I seem to have friends, I feel so alone. I walked solemnly to my third grade classroom where a teacher with glasses and a green jacket stood in front of the class.

"Ah a new student, ok class this is… uh what's your name?"

"Hi I'm M-Michael", I said in a cute innocent voice hoping to win over others thinking I'm cute and innocent.

"Ok Michael why don't you take a seat next to Kyle and I'll get you up to speed".

I took my seat, sitting slowly again to which Kyle again looked with concern, I ignored this once again. The teacher called Mr Garrison introduced himself to me before carrying on with his lessons as I watch others take notes from the board. I was amazed that the classroom wasn't yet equipped with the latest technology to assist learning. I must've grimaced in pain as I sat in my seat and I was drawing attention from fellow students, I ignored their stares and looked forward. I shakily take my pen and scribble some notes down, but I looked up again and saw that he had a hand puppet. I looked over to Kyle, "Who's he holding on his hand?"

"Oh that's Mr Hat, he's his assistant shall we say. We learn from him too".

"Whoa hang on we learn from a puppet".

"Yeah … why is that a problem?"

"Sounds a bit well childish, don't you think?"

"Need I remind you Michael that we are only in third grade, we're still young".

I sighed, he was right we were still young; I need to loosen up and enjoy my time here. Even if my home life was one of abuse I couldn't let them into that world of abuse.

Recess was a time to burn off some steam, but I really wasn't in the mood to do so, the pain in my back from last nights' beating was really hurting me now that I went to the nurse to administer some painkillers for my back insisting that I slept funny last night as the cause. I came out of the nurses' room to the playground as I saw the guys I met playing basketball, with my bad back I couldn't just play with them, but looking around I couldn't see anywhere else to spend my time. I sighed as I put my hands in the pockets on my jacket as I trudge over to the four boys. I didn't see Butters though which is odd, but then again it seems no-one likes him.

"Hey guys".

"Oh hey Michael wanna shoot some hoops with us?"

"Uh no thanks, I'm not that good, Kyle I have a question".

"Sure Michael fire away".

"Why doesn't anyone like Butters, out of you lot that is?"

The silence began as they looked at each other, oh god I made them nervous, Stan came over to me and pulled me to the side mumbling something on the lines of, "I'll tell him".

"Look Michael, we wanted to tell you that we don't like Butters because well he's a bit weird like he gets nervous all the time, he is so naïve and well he's gullible too".

"Wait, that doesn't give anyone the right to not like someone for being unique".

"Dude being gullible all the time opens the door to bullying unfortunately".

"Stan, don't call me dude ok, doesn't sit well with me".

"I only gave you a nick-name what's the big deal".

"The big deal is you shouldn't give me an identity to be considered part of the group when I really don't want to be part of".

"You don't want to be part of our gang?"

I sighed and turned my back to them, "No", I walked away from the group.

Kyle didn't feel the negative side to my cold answer, "Michael, wait".

"Forget it Kyle, he said he didn't want to hang out with us".

"Yeah Jew, we heard it loud and clear".

"Oh shut up Cartman!"

"Dude, why are you going with this guy? It's quite clear he doesn't want to be with us".

"Stan, he's in denial! Can't you see that? He wants to be with us, but something in his head isn't making any sense to him".

"Fine, believe what you want Kyle, but I'm telling you, he's not interested".

I sat on the outskirts of the playground waiting for those agonising minutes to trickle away so that we can go back inside in the warm. Why is it so cold here anyway? Isn't it summer right now? Maybe South Park doesn't get a summer or maybe I came in a bad year, weather wise. I watch the clock and other children play in their groups, I sigh as the disabled kid on crutches still hang out with some of his friends. Butters on the other hand, haven't got any real friends, ones that treat him like a friend would, not telling him to shut up all the time, that's just mean. Who cares if he is gullible and naïve? He has a right to have friends, then again I do too, but I don't feel comfortable here at all. I look up again after being in deep thought and watched the minute hand of the clock get ever closer to 10:30am, I sigh as I trudge back to the school doors by which time the school bell rang. I trudge solemnly back to my seat, ignoring the people around me and try to focus on the lesson that Mr Garrison has in store for us. I sit there whilst thinking, "Is my dad awake yet? Will he abuse my mum like he does me and my brother? Oh goodness no I hope not", my thoughts were interrupted by Kyle nudging me.

I look up to see Mr Garrison looking concerned. "Is everything ok? Michael, have you been paying attention?"

"Pfft what a stupid question, of course not with everything going through my head", I thought as I nodded my head.

"Right so I will get you to answer the next Math problem then, what is 4 times 7, Michael?"

I sighed, "28", I reply through sheer boredom.

"That's correct can I see you after class?"

"Oh great, what does he want?" I thought.

The day drawn on, Mr Garrison called time on the Math lesson and dismissed everyone barring me from the class. I sigh as I packed my stuff away and remain seated; he came over to me and sat opposite.

"Michael, I know its difficult being at a new school, I wanted to make sure that you were doing alright".

"Yeah I'm fine".

"If I see anything unusual I will have to book an appointment with the school counsellor to be sure, ok".

"Fine, fine, can I go now?"

"Sure Michael", I walk out of the classroom with a saddened look on my face.

"Hey Michael, you seem down, what did Mr Garrison want?"

"Oh nothing, he was just checking on me".

"Ok cool, look Michael I know you said you didn't want to hang out with us, but we feel that you do".

"Kyle I…"

"I know your past is too bad to talk about, but wouldn't it help if you did talk about it?"

"No it wouldn't, stop asking me… please", I pleaded as my eyes had tears in them.

"Ok I will stop, but you can't bottle these feelings up forever, that's unhealthy".

"I know, but I just don't want to talk about it", I walked off to lunch Kyle and his gang followed me.

"Ok now you're worrying me, you come here depressed and down yet you don't talk about why you came here".

"Ok fine my family moved here because of financial problems".

Eric rubbed his hands together, "Oh boy I can't wait to have Chef's food again".

"Chef?" I ask.

"Oh he's our… cafeteria… um chef".

I followed the four boys to the counter where a black skinned man wearing an apron and a chefs' hat stood with a spatula in his hand. The apron had the word 'Chef' on it in capital letters.

"Hello there, children".

"Hey Chef".

"How's it going?"

"Good".

"Hey, a new member of the group. What is your name?"

"Well unofficially, my name is Michael".

"Welcome Michael".

"Yeah, yeah intro over now what have you got for us today?"

"I have lovingly prepared today, my special Salsbury Steak with buttered noodles".

"Yay! My favourite!" yelled Kyle.

"With a side of my sexual fantasy".

Eric looked up from his tray, "Excuse me?"

"Come on children, feel my sexual fantasy, let's all make sweet love".

I look up now at this person I just met, "What! No, no, no".

"Hey relax, he didn't mean it that way right Chef".

"I want to stick my balls inside your rectum Kyle".

"Oh yeah, he really didn't mean it that way you prick!"

I take off without my lunch and went to the counsellor with them hot on my heel.

"Michael wait that's not him talking".

"I don't know Chef, how am I meant to trust him, Kyle?"

"He's usually one to offer advice".

"What? How to stick his balls in your rectum? Kyle I'm struggling to see sense in that".

"No, no Michael, ok it doesn't make sense alright, I'll tell you something that happened a couple weeks ago, well Stan heard from Chef that he was bored so he went to the Super Adventure Club to seek adventure, apparently forever, but a couple days ago he unexpectedly returned and well we thought he hit his head or something".

"So you're saying he never made those comments before".

"Exactly my point, he never did until he went to that adventure club thing".

I looked at the counsellors' door and back to Kyle, I sighed, "Fine I believe you, but I'm pretty sure he will be reported soon anyway".

I turn back to Kyle and sighed as I went back to the cafeteria as my stomach grumbled.

"Look, I won't say anything to any authority figure if you promise to do your own research into what might've happened".

"Ok Michael, thanks for sticking by him, trust me, it's not him talking".

"I hope you're right Kyle".

I collect my meal from the assistant chef, I thought was weird.

"Uh hang on where's Chef?"

"Oh he's been given the rest of the day off".

"Oh ok".

I walk to a table and they joined me, "That's weird, Chef is gone again".

"Yeah, but I know why now".

"You don't mean?"

"Yes, I think someone has sussed him out".

I eat my lunch, to which I was pleasantly surprised by how good Chefs' food really is. The bell rang for the afternoon lessons as I wander to the trashcan to put my scraps away and left it with the other dirty dishes. I walk into Mr Garrisons' classroom, he started the lesson, but was quickly interrupted by the intercom crackled loudly with a strange mans' voice on the other end.

"Attention Mr Garrison, could you dismiss your class to my office there is an emergency assembly, it's very important mkay".

"Alright class go to Counsellor Mackey's office". Mr Garrison dismissed the Third Graders to the room.

I saw someone in a police suit standing in front of the desk, I felt myself tense up, but I relaxed when I felt Stan put his arm around me.

"Hi kids, I'm Detective Jarvis and I need to ask some very difficult questions about your school cafeteria chef".

Kyle spoke up, "This doesn't make any sense".

"I agree", I spoke out of character.

"We have information that all this time that Chef has been and still is a paedophile".

Stan spoke up, "No he's not".

"Uh huh", Stan firmly objected, "No he's not".

"Yeah, yeah he is so".

Butters spoke up, "What's a paedophile?"

Oh that innocent Butters, I still don't see why everyone seems to pick on him.

"Now I need some testimony in order to arrest Chef so I'm going to use this doll to ask you, kids a few questions", he pointed to the groin area of the doll, "Did Chef touch any of you here?"

I scoffed, 'Why am I here?' I thought, 'I barely know the guy'.

"No", chanted all the kids.

'Huh maybe Kyle is telling the truth' I thought.

"Did he touch you here?" he circled around the penis area.

"NO!" yelled the kids.

'Wow they must like him that much they're covering for him or have they got all the facts and this so called detective is talking a load of rubbish', I thought since it doesn't concern me, I look at the counsellor, he's having problems containing his discomfort from the Detectives' questions.

"Did he ever do this?" he rubbed the dolls nipples.

'Ok this is stupid'.

"How about this?" he started licking the dolls' private area.

'OH, make it stop!' I screamed in my head.

Butters piped up, "My uncle Bud did that to me once".

My head filtered everything out as his statement pierced through my brain as I processed it, 'My uncle Bud did that to me once'. My jaw dropped as I heard it from sweet innocent Butters, 'Good lord, who'd do something like that to an innocent boy of his calibre?'

I could hear my heart beating roughly against my chest as I calmed my heart beat to a steady rhythm. My mind spun as the images of innocent Butters getting his genitalia licked like the detective imitated is sending a chill through my body.

"Did Chef ever try one of these on for size?" he grabbed the doll and started to imitate anal sex.

'Oh my God, these are innocent kids why do this?' I was really screaming through my mind now.

"God damn it, Chef isn't like that, something funny is going on here!" Kyle is frustrated as all the other kids, 'Hmm maybe there is something not right here, maybe Kyle is telling the truth'.

"Young man, will you please pay attention? This is very important stuff".

He keeps humping the doll, I felt my blood boil, that does it I'm stopping this charade of a testimony.

"God damn it! You know what? Rather than hump that doll, I'd listen to your testimony and they all say Chef did not have any sexual contact with any of these kids, I don't know him and I have only met him today! I believe them too, Counsellor Mackey sort this out before you have eighteen appointments tomorrow morning".

"Right that's enough Detective Jarvis, you're scarring the kids, come on off with you, the rest of you back to class".

Kyle walked out with the guys to the hallway, "Ok guys this is serious Chef could be arrested for this".

"Yeah, but what do we do?"

"Keep to our story that Chef isn't like that and it should run smoothly".

They wandered back to class after everyone else, "Where have you boys been? Class has been in session for 5 minutes".

"We were um…"

"… Presenting our testimony to Detective Jarvis, right Stan?"

"Yeah", I agreed.

Mr Garrison sighed, "Ok that's fine, now that my lesson has been severely disrupted by that meeting, we will just go over some math problems from this morning, now what is 81 divided by 9?"

No one put their hand up, Mr Garrison turned from the blackboard and sighed, "Come on, don't be shy". Mr Garrison sighed again as he brought out Mr Hat, "Come on kids, this problem can be solved".

"Seriously he is messed up in the head if he thinks a puppet improves learning".

"Michael, stop berating Mr Garrison, you need to stop judging him and let him teach you".

I sigh, "Fine", I put my hand up.

"Michael?" he picked me.

"The answer is um 9".

"Good Michael, there's also a special word to go along with this number, can anyone tell me what this number is?"

"Hmm actually, he's not so bad, I'm enjoying it now", I thought.

Kyle sat back and put his hand up this time.

"Kyle".

"It's a square number, Mr Garrison".

"Really the number doesn't look square to me", Mr Hat blurted out.

"Mr Hat, you know better than mislead these students".

"Hey I was only joking, geez take a chill pill Mr Garrison".

"Oh", the class giggled as he blushed.

"Now kids a square number is a number times by itself and so 81 is 9 times 9".

The school bell rang for the final time to conclude the day of school in which I dreaded to be away from. I am dreading going back home and face the abuse again after being spared from it for a few hours. I loved being away from home, I wanted to stay at school, but I knew I'd be for it if I stayed.

"Oh I wish I didn't have to go home", I muttered.

I wandered aimlessly onto a bus hoping it is the wrong one as to not be going to my house where my abuse will surely continue to torment me. After 5 minutes, the four boys walked on my bus and from that I deduced that my fate was sealed, I'd have to be taken to the hell-hole I sometimes call home.

"Hey we missed you going with us to the bus".

"Look I don't need a posse to accompany me to the bus like a kindergartner".

"Ok, ok chill out".

"Damn it, I-I'm sorry I just… I don't know".

"Maybe you do need someone to release those feelings to, Michael I told you it isn't healthy".

"I appreciate you looking out for me, but I'm actually fine at the moment, tomorrow will be better".

Kyle looked at Stan with the same look of concern he gave me all day, I sigh as I stare out the window as trees and houses fly past it. When my stop came, I sighed as I get off and I seemed to freeze with fear as I stand before my house. I know that my father has to be awake now for yet another night shift at the police station. How I ended up having this disgusting, horrible man as my father, I will never know. I hastily walked into my house, to my surprise the house had the lights on. My mum was in the kitchen and my dad no-where to be seen.

"Hi Mum I'm home".

"Oh hi honey, how was school?"

"It was great mum, um where is Dad?"

"Oh he's getting ready for work".

"Great, I better get out my study books to keep me busy".

"Ok then Michael".

My father come downstairs a few minutes later, "Oh goody he's back".

"Oh you actually noticed me then".

"Shut it you twerp".

I kept my mouth shut and looked from his eyes to my study books. I needed to prove him wrong, let him know he couldn't say I'm worthless, that was mean I know, but against him I can't do or say anything. It's like he controls me in some way. Long and behold he leaves for work to which my mum and I breathe a sigh of relief.

"I just hope he comes home and sleeps in tomorrow morning so that I can leave without seeing him".


End file.
